


Don't Wait for Me

by superhiki



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Las Vegas, Late 2000's (2007-2009), M/M, Mortal AU, Vague Ending, escort AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 08:59:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14053473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhiki/pseuds/superhiki
Summary: Escort Louis finds his newest client demanding, eccentric, well-paying, and completely neutered. What gives?Short exploration of a hustler trading companionship for cash instead of the usual fair, so to speak.





	Don't Wait for Me

Absolutely everything had been typical up to the point of Louis arriving at the predetermined rendezvous point, but well bred nerves danced about his shoulders anyway in the familiar icy electricity that had kept him alive and relatively unharmed during every paid tryst he'd attempted. These were the same nerves that saved ancestors walking down muddy colonial streets on a dark night. The same that shivered in the woods when the fire was in sight but the warmth too far away. Well bred nerves.    
  


But now they had been short circuited, as the client who greeted him at the suite looked like nothing to fear at all. Not at first. Doors opened on beguilingly large eyes, a small face he had to tilt his chin down to look at, and someone who looked decided unlike any client he'd had before. At once he leaned back and doubled checked the number but-   
  


"You're in the right place, come in."   
  


Louis didn't lean forward and instead turned his head away, looking down the hall and then sideways at the young man in the door before glancing past him and into the suite for any sign of a set up.    
  


"Louis, come in." 

  
The man at the door grabbed him by the wrist and when their gazes met those big brown eyes went wide, like he'd only just caught sight of him. Usually Louis would wrench his hand away if grabbed like that before any ground rules had been stated, but those nerves of his were still dazed and he failed to do anything except stand and stare. 

  
"There we are, come in it won't take long." The young man pulled him through the door into the hotel suite and nothing was out of place except for the duvet and a game system thrown atop the mussed sheets. A pizza box was open and picked over, MarioKart's title screen trilled from the television, outside the window he could see the part of the Venetian across the street, glittering in the night as Las Vegas hotels were wont to do. Louis was stunned still and began quickly wondering just what all he was going to get busted for in this very obvious sting. 

  
The young man let him go and then stood back, gesturing at himself. He was dressed nicely, black suit, as if he really were going out and needing a companion for the evening as his messages had stated. However, his tie was undone and he gestured at this. "Tie this for me, would you?"

  
Louis obliged and the entire time he was looking between his shaking fingers and the unfettered stare of the young, very young, man who was watching him work with perfect concentration. When tied up properly he tucked the tie into his vest and then buttoned the second button on his three button suit. He turned and looked into the mirror in the suite's foyer. 

 

  
"Excellent, thank you." He fished into his pants pocket and dropped a wad of 20's into Louis' hand without looking back from the mirror. "You're dismissed."

  
Louis wasn't sure what to make of anything and his brow knit in the middle with a severe case of the elevens. 

  
The man, 'Armand' if Louis went off the names he signed his messages with, pursed his lips and looked at his call boy's reflection in the mirror. 

  
"Unless you still want to join me, I'm not going to be offended if you do or don't. I'm bringing along a stronger magnet this time," he began with incoherent order and further confusing Louis. "Which should make collecting coins in the Bellagio fountain that much easier. An assistant to help me collect samples without drawing attention will be useful. You can distract as I extract." 

  
What would someone with wads of twenty dollar bills want with a couple of coins flicked into a fountain?

  
As he would discover with Armand on their many, many trips out, there was a lot of hypocrisy. Namely, that he paid for the attention of a man who found him charming enough to be around for free.    
  


 

* * *

 

  
"Why are you paying me?"   
  


The outburst was unplanned and unusual but Armand didn't appear disturbed in the slightest. He looked up from what he was doing on the bed and sat up on his elbows to get a better look at Louis who was standing in the door to the fancy bathroom of their latest headquarters.

"And why don't you ask me to do anything for you?"   
  


Armand's ankles were crossed and bobbed up in the air as he laid out on his belly in front of the hundreds of name-sake keychains they'd taken as bounty from a boarded up shop on the tired and gaudy Fremont Street.    
  


Armand must have breathed in through his nose because his lips didn't part until he spoke, but the shallow breath hardly changed his form as if he hadn't been breathing at all. "You mean _ 'to me' _ . I haven't asked you to do anything  _ to _ me, you do things  _ for _ me all the time, Louis."    
  


The elevens again, cutting the smooth curve of his brow for the millionth time. He had Armand to thank for their permanence now.    
  


"As for your first question, you've never asked me _not_ to pay you." This was true and something Louis only halfheartedly questioned. He wasn't going to snub someone with access to black cards and wads of cash, especially not in a place like Vegas where rent was expensive if you didn't want to live in a dump. He had a day job over on the East side of town at a wholesale art shop as a clerk- but doing a bit of escorting helped him get out when he would otherwise not be able to afford it.    
  
Usually he was only picked up for the weekends, but Armand almost exclusively called for him on weekdays and that extra bit of income was easy to get used to. Not to mention Louis had gotten fond of buying sparkling water and refused to switch back to tap now that he was hooked on those expensive glass bottles.    
  


He'd grown accustomed the luxury Armand was surrounding him with and it appeared the both of them knew this as with one pointed look Armand closed his eyes and rolled over onto his back, ending that train of thought.    
  


"And second, isn't it  _ me _ that is supposed to be doing things  _ to you _ ?" Armand asked smugly.   
  


Every once in a while there would be something Armand said that alluded to a naivety as rare as catching him off guard. This was one such instance. 

  
"I can do things to you. I've done things to others." Louis answered quickly, firmly, and catching Armand's attention- maybe even catching him off guard after all. Two in one. 

  
Armand said nothing but rolled back onto his belly, this time hanging his head a little lower and uncrossing his ankles to let his bare feet dig into the sheets. The question was still unanswered. 

  
At first Louis didn't understand why him, why an escort? He was getting paid to participate in activities as mundane as people watching in a food court to ones as mischievous as releasing hundreds of bouncy balls from the balcony over a card hall. It was hardly typical for one of his profession.    
  
He developed a hypothesis soon enough- Armand had no one else and money paved a smooth track for all his whims. There was no budget to what fancied him, but perhaps because his tastes and desires could be so unconventional the usual sort of entourage money brought didn't last long. Who else would play along with him when he interviewed drunks for their opinions on make believe news events he concocted on the spot. 

  
' _ Did you hear? Las Vegas passed public tickle fights. If you have a license you can take on anyone you want. All you need to do is ring a bell first. _ ' He asked on several occasions, microphone following the lips of a toddling tourist as they attempted to answer. Louis would ring the aforementioned bell moments later and Armand, slight frame an all, would leap and attack with twitching fingers. Actually, if Louis sat down and thought about it, much of Armand’s adventures required little to no money at all. Yes they might occasionally need supplies, but it appeared the biggest portion of his budget was affording Louis and the suites he worked out of.    
  


Louis, at first, really did believe the answer was that Armand happened to be kind of person who had to pay for this sort of cooperation, with time however he began to wonder when Armand would ask for him next and when he could go a day without covering himself in coconut oil and shaving down his body for the pleasure of some out-of-town john. Obviously Louis could put up with him and in many cases even enjoyed their outings.  It wasn't that Armand couldn't find companions, not entirely.    
  


It was that Armand prefered transactional human interaction. He was completely transparent about it. Sure, like anyone he might have had a favorite spot to get his fix, the familiar coffee shop just outside his place- But if he needed it he could get that same fix elsewhere. There wasn't enough transparency in friends. In strangers, hookers, and pawns he could see the exact exchange of goods, time, and energy. And in that he appeared most comfortable. Relaxed.   
  


Trusting. 

  
Armand's heavy head of curls drooped down a little and he went back to sorting his keychains, pecking at them with two index fingers. 

  
He could buy just about anything. He had paid for kisses right in front of Louis from strangers with overdrawn, glossy lips. He'd bought drinks for the people who's laps he sat in at performances they snuck into. He even had Louis hold the camera once in the very room they spoke in as Armand talked another escort through his climax, blase as the dim witted bombshell pelted him with stale compliments about how much it turned him on to be watched.  Louis knew the guy. He made half as much a night blowing family values politicians as Louis did helping Armand flatten pennies with the images of Las Vegas landmarks in some tourist trap of a gift shop for a few minutes. 

  
Armand didn't look up. "I'm not asking for you to sway my opinion with your answer, and don't think that it will, but does it really bother you that I'm not paying you for sex?"   
  


Did it? Somewhat, Louis decided. He wouldn't have brought it up if he didn't and he couldn't shake the feeling that despite all the transparency there was something Armand still hid from him. "Do you think my time is better spent this way?" 

  
"You can't answer my question with a question. Besides, what I think and what I pay for are separate- Not... doing things with you is a waste in your mind, isn't it, otherwise this wouldn't be an issue."    
  


Louis bristled. It hurt his ego to be used like a breathing security blanket, he knew his body was purely luck and so selling it was being advantageous, but it took effort to be someone worth being around and he would not so easily sell it. "Or perhaps I'm more comfortable selling sex than companionship. I can't be bought like that, my friends don't pay me to be around them, so why should I let you?"    
  


Armand looked up at the words 'my friends' and went green with envy for a split second, eyes widening at the surprising blow it must have dealt him. His lips pursed suddenly. "Well I'm certainly not paying you for a lecture. You can go now, Louis."

  
No, that's why he paid Louis. So he could end things just like that.

 

* * *

 

  
Since there wasn't a contract or any real paper trail between them and, of course, absolutely nothing owed it didn't take more than a month before Louis was swept up in another miserable episode of life and Armand was the furthest thing from his mind. He had gone from falling asleep to wishful thoughts of another ping on his callboy app from the eccentric young man to wishful thoughts of a better tan or tighter abs that might draw in more clients. The usual. It was probably exactly as Armand wished, to be forgotten easily. That was the least Louis could do for all his patronage.   
  


He was busy again with familiar problems he thought he'd die having to face again, but it was discomfort he was used to and so he accepted it without struggle or remorse. Drinking straight from the tap with unflinching thirst, Louis wiped his lips after and responded to a pushy offer. Same shit, another out of state visitor wanting to look like he was worth more than he appeared with a number like Louis eating out of his hand.

 

In Vegas people were rewarded for disrupting things. Enough giggling girls or drunken studs and even the most reserved of bystanders would be swept up in the atmosphere, buying rounds or betting it all and fawning attention on the person bringing the party. This seemed like one of those deals, the client was calling for a bunch of escorts to parade around for this exact reason- Probably some middle management loser wanting to impress coworkers he'd dragged along on his indulgent vacation. What a laugh, you make salary, get a little paid-time-off, and suddenly you run the world. 

  
Louis heard about this gig through a friend of a friend. Some melon-headed frat mattress, who already had a great job as a club promoter but possessed bad spending habits, was gathering bodies and wanted some guys to balance out the gaggle of gals. Too many girls to one or two balding stiffs was way too obvious, they'd get no free rounds if it was clearly some tourist trying to flaunt his money. Louis despised the idea of competing for tips in a large group but he'd run out of burn money for sparkling water and decided to hell with it. He'd take the ding to his ego if it meant a little treat afterwards. Besides, he actually enjoyed gambling.    
  
As much as one could enjoy watching money get gobbled up in the casinos. 

  
He dressed plainly, knowing he wasn't the eye candy for the evening, in jeans and a black shirt with some tacky belt people just loved to yank him around by. If it weren't for the help of another escort he'd still be wearing oversized sweaters and pants with holes not scuffed in by design.    
  


"You're lucky you're so pretty" he'd told Louis, "If you weren't people would assume you've got depth and they'd try to scam you. When you're pretty people forget you can be just as insecure as anyone else."    
  


Louis thought about this exchange often, but for some reason the impression of it had changed. He couldn't recall when exactly but instead of smug satisfaction it left him feeling hollow as of late.  

 

Those oversized sweaters and tattered clothes had last been worn when he went out with Armand to break into an incomplete housing development way out on the edge of town. It was with grave ceremony (an attitude Armand would put on in accordance to some personal dogma Louis was entirely unaware of) that he opened the sliding glass door to a bare cookie-cutter home unit and breathed in the smell of fresh paint. He clasped his hands beneath his chin as he walked through the ground floor, sneakers squeaking cartoonishly on the cheap linoleum, and when he spoke it echoed loudly without cabinets or furniture to damped the sound. 

 

“It feels temporary without a thing in it,” he said of the house as he fingered the hole where a light switch would go. “Usually impermanence makes things more beautiful, but this just looks cheap.” That stately tone continued and in the ambiance of all those white walls reflecting what little light Armand’s pocket torch provided Louis realized he was getting sucked into the ceremony of those words. “That’s the problem with this place. It’s all so temporary and it doesn’t even bother to be beautiful.”

 

Armand seemed to have an especially caustic opinion of Las Vegas. This was part of Armand Louis found repulsive, considering the amount of money he appeared to have, and as they stood in the shell of a home he was wrapped up enough in the atmosphere to speak up about it. 

 

“That’s sickening to hear from someone who has the money to leave.” 

 

Armand turned just enough to peer at him over one dusty shoulder with a disappointed face. His tone was confused and pleading like he didn’t understand where Louis came up with such a statement.

 

“Who said it was my money?”

 

That had been a few nights before his dismissal and Louis didn’t bring up the topic again, something in Armand’s expression a bit too desperate to approach while they remained on professional terms. 

 

But maybe now if he saw him again he would shake Armand until the answers were jostled out of him. Who’s money had they been spending and how did he get it? And, more importantly, why couldn’t he leave the place he hated being in so much?

 

Before he headed out to join the rest of the hired company Louis dipped under the faucet of his kitchenette sink and drank from the tap again.

 

* * *

 

Color Louis surprised. Or maybe a little red with embarrassment..

He wasn’t the only person in town to have encountered the enigmatic Armand, it seemed everyone he’d gone out with that night ran into him one way or another over the last several weeks, mostly through the same arrangement app they’d used to get this particular gig as well. 

  
Louis had thrown himself, clothes and all, onto the folded out couch he slept on in his tiny rented motel room and felt himself spinning thanks to the drinks he downed during the colorful discussion of Armand. He snorted his cranberry vodka when realized the topic of conversation he was ignoring happened to be about Armand and thankfully his attempt at eavesdropping wasn’t called out. They were seated in a large booth and the night was nearing its end. The tourists who’d paid for their company were so blasted that the other hustlers were just milling around and running up their tab while they could. 

 

Louis knew this particular crew as being a bit more edgy than himself, they were disruptive loiterers and didn’t suffer the shame Louis was always so afflicted by when he thought of his life and where his choices led him. He was kind of stuck up for a fellow that stole penicillin from pet stores when he had a cold. This being the case he hadn’t said much of anything to the others with him and when Armand came up no one turned to look at him when he spat on the rim of his glass.

 

“He looks really young like, you know, he could be one of us.” A guy with clean edges to his cropped short hair sighed, rubbing a knuckle to his brow. “But he pays for the dumbest shit. I’d think he was trying to show pity or be a grief tourist if he weren’t so oblivious.”

 

“It’s like he saw someone hire a French Maid and then made her actually clean.” 

 

* * *

 

_ We need to meet tomorrow. It is important.  _

 

A little while later another message was sent.

 

_ If you have plans cancel them. I will pay you twice over. More. _

 

Louis pursed his lips and briefly felt the urge rise up that he should tell Armand off for assuming he only went out to work- But the guy was right so he tamped it down and told himself not to bite the hand feeding him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble for the best @monstersinthecosmos here on AO3 and tumblr. 
> 
> I may or may not continue this. 
> 
> A bit autobiographical in that I did stupid stuff on the streets in Las Vegas for money when I was younger. Sing, dance, pretend to be nursing myself after an accident, dress in animal costumes and crash parties. So on. Got a lot of free food, alcohol, and repressed memories out of it.


End file.
